The Childhood of a Telepath
by Re-Rei
Summary: Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title.  Virginia Woolf


**Title:** The Childhood of a Telepath

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort

**Warnings:** Suicide, child abuse, character death

**Summary:** Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title. ~Virginia Woolf

This is the comic book past. But I intertwined it with the movie.

I needed to get this out of my head. It was bothering my while I was writing my other stuff.

Okay, English classes are starting next week. Yes, I have school in the summer. I'm not really dreading it 'cuz it would be good for me.

But...

No updates until then. I'm going to be ultra, ultra busy!

Sorry...

Done at 9 in the morning. Me no speak English that well so expect a lot of mistakes. Both from fatigue and my poor English.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. If there is one 'cuz now that I think about it. This was totally random.

* * *

><p>When he first opened his eyes, all he saw were blobs of colours. He blinked and gazed wildly around the room. Where…?<p>

"And his name is…?" Someone said above him. It was nice and warm, he liked it very much. He sighed softly and snuggled deeper into the warm that surrounded him.

"Charles Xavier. His name shall be Charles Francis Xavier." A voice said to his left. It was deep and foreign. Utterly terrified by the sound he did the first thing that came to mind.

He cried.

Loudly.

The voice came back and hushed him gently. "Don't cry, it's okay Charles. It's okay," the voice cooed. He was lifted up from the fluffy thing he was resting on. He felt safe and secure. Maybe this whoever it was wasn't as bad as he had first thought…

Slowly, his cries died down.

"Welcome to the family, my son. I love you."

And so, another year passed. He was one now and he was part of a family.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

His parents were getting worried. The doctors assured them that he was just developing late but they were still worried about his odd silence. He hasn't spoken a word yet.

One day he was sitting in his mother's lap while she was reading something. He watched the strange looking things on the page in front of him with great curiosity. What were these things?

He pointed to one of them and looked at Mother. She smiled and said, "And."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. And? What was that?

"It's a word Charles." Mother explained as she went back to reading.

And…was a word?

He was confused. Very confused.

He pointed to another word. Mother laughed a bit and said, "Okay, okay! Let's see…that word is 'Mother.'"

Mother…

That sounded familiar. His father said that word all the time…but it was always followed by something else. And whenever he said it, sounds came out of his mouth. Why don't sounds come out of his mouth?

He had to try.

"M…Mat…Mat-ah…I wuv oo." He said softly.

And so, another year passed. He was two now and he just said his first words.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

It was very quiet.

Mother and Father were both at work, leaving him alone. Charles didn't mind though, there were lots of other people in the mansion to keep him company. He wasn't truly _alone._

But as he continued his drawing he noticed the wet spots on the paper. He brought a hand to his cheek and gasped when he felt something watery.

Was he…_crying_?

He sniffled and hugged his knees.

_'Mother, Father…Where are you?'_

And so, another year passed. He was three now and all alone.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

He stared at the ivory and ebony keys before him. He bit his lip and he tentatively raised a finger. It hovered above a key and with some more encouragement from his father, he pressed it.

_F_

He smiled bashfully when the note echoed around the room. Father patted him on the back, "Very groovy Charles. Try another one!" Seeing the enthusiasm in his father's eyes, he tried another key, this time it was a _'G.'_

"Now let's do a scale-" his father paused to play a basic _C Major Scale_, "-like this one." Charles watched intently as Father played the scale again. He watched every movement Father made and every key he pressed. Determined, he faced the keys and placed his stubby fingers on them. He pressed down on them and frowned. They sounded weird and nothing like the what his father just played.

"It's okay, try again." He stuck his tongue out in concentration and pressed a key. It was the right one. He pressed the next one and it was right too. He kept playing until he reached the end of the scale.

He beamed and looked at Father with a huge smile on his face. His father ruffled his hair and chuckled, "Well done my son."

"Well aren't we feeling musical today?" Charles turned around and smiled when he saw his mother by the doorway. She giggled and walked up to him. Mother leaned down and kissed his forehead, "Our son, the piano prodigy."

And so, another year passed by. He was four now and he just started to learn how to play the piano.

***~***.***~***

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_Brian Xavier  
>1894 - 1936<br>Gone but never forgotten_

Charles gripped his mother's hand tightly in his own. His vision blurred and he wiped his tears away with his sleeve.

"…Brian was a great friend of mine. He was hardworking, self-sacrificing and he had this easy-going personality that everyone loved…" He blocked out the sounds of Father's co-worker's speech.

_'Father…'_He thought sadly. Why did his father have to die? He was such a good man…

He let go of his mother's hand to rub his tears away while he sobbed. But they just kept on falling. His mother knelt down and hugged him. "Father is gone now Charles. Gone forever." Mother said emotionlessly, almost as if she didn't care about Father's death. But her eyes shone with a sadness that said otherwise.

"Father…," he whispered so quietly that no one heard him, "Goodbye."

And so, another year passed by. He was five now and he had lost his father.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

Mother was never around anymore. She was either locked in her room brooding or off on some plane to somewhere. Every time Charles approached her she would always yell at him and tell him to go away.

Mother wasn't Mother anymore.

But she wasn't the only that that had changed.

A man had been visiting them lately. Ever since the funeral, the man had visited them every day. He was a nice, gentle, kind and very patient. Mother seemed to like him a lot. Charles liked the man too. He taught him a lot of stuff about science and math - just like Father did - and even some things about a game called chess.

His name was Dr. Kurt Marko.

Dr. Marko helped Mother through her grief. Mother started to smile again and she was home more often. Yes, he liked Dr. Marko very much. Mother kept talking about how great Marko was and how she thought he was best for the both of them.

Months passed by and soon his Mother decided that she would marry Dr. Marko.

Dr. Marko and his son, Cain Marko, moved in with them a week later.

And so, another year passed. He was six now and he had gained another father and a brother.

***~***.***~***

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***~***.***~***

Voices.

For a while now Charles had been hearing voices in his head. They weren't his thoughts, he knew what much, so maybe they were the thoughts of…others?

At first it was just couple harmless thoughts here and there, nothing to bothersome. Days passed and he began to pick up every thought he could. It quickly got to the point where he couldn't tell the difference between what were thoughts and what were actual words.  
>His mother thought he was going crazy while his step-brother thought he just wanted attention. It was his step-father that told him that he had been reading minds.<p>

Marko was, of course, joking but something about his comment about reading minds struck Charles as…right.

A mind reader.

He was a mind reader.

And so, another year passed. He was seven now and very powerful.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

His control over his powers have greatly improved since the day he discovered them. He could choose whose mind he wanted to enter and when. He could even influence them in some ways.

But what he couldn't do was block out the thoughts of others.

He learned to deal with it but that didn't mean the thoughts he heard hurt any less.

Mother's thoughts were always filled with blame.

_'Why are you here and not him? '_

Why did he have to die leaving me with you?'

'Murderer, hater, monster...'

Cain's thoughts were always filled with hate.

_'I hate his smile, that stupid smile.'_

'He thinks the world is filled with sunshine and rainbows, how naïve of him'

'I hate him so much.'

Marko's thoughts were always filled with greed.

_'Idiotic woman.'_

'So much money, it's amazing that someone can own that much.'

'Just a little longer and all of it would be mine.'

And so, another year passed. He was eight now and he saw his family for what they truly were.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

The beatings were more frequent now. Charles spent every day quaking in fear of what Marko might do to him. He tried to make himself as invisible as possible but Marko always found him.

Always.

He wasn't only scared for himself. He was scared for Cain, who was also a victim to the beatings. Cain was fifteen - almost twice his age - but that only meant he endured Marko's beatings for far longer.

"What are you staring at squirt?" Cain growled when he noticed Charles was staring at him. Charles squeaked and looked back down at his homework. But every once in a while, Charles would steal glances at his step-brother. He wanted to help him but he didn't know how. But he had to try.

For Cain.

He rested his head on the palm of his hand and discreetly placed two fingers on his temple (a habit he used to help him concentrate). He reached out for Cain's mind and scanned his psyche to discover how damaged Cain really was.

He gasped at what he saw. Marko had done something a little more than just beat Cain, he actually _experimented_on Cain. His own son.

And Charles had the pleasure of experiencing ever suffocating moment of Cain's tormented past first-hand.

His focus faltered under the immense memories that were attacking him. In his brief lapse of concentration, Cain realized there was something strange in his mind and Charles was immediately flung out.

Cain clutched his head in his hands and screamed, "What the hell!" He glared at Charles with a mix of anger and pain. "_You_! What did you do to me!"

Charles gulped, "I-I did nothing. I swear!"

"_Liar_!"

Cain lunged forwards and grasped his neck, "What the hell did you do to me!" Charles shook his head and sobbed, "Nothing! I did nothing!"

Cain snarled but let go of him.

And so, another year passed. He was nine now and he was scared of tomorrow.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

He knocked on Mother's door. She had been in there for three days now and Charles was very worried. Mother tended to lock herself in her room but never has she done it for three days.

She started to isolate herself a while back when Marko started to neglect her. Whenever he entered her room, it was always littered with these bottles that smelled funny. His mother was always in her chair, just looking out the window with a blank expression. But three days ago, she smiled - though it didn't quite reach her eyes - for the first time in months. She even hugged him and gave him her locket, which he now wore every day and absolutely refused to take it off. Even while showering.

He shook his head and snapped out of his thoughts. Right now, the important thing was Mother. Charles knocked one more time.

…

He bit his lip when no one answered.

"Mother…" He called out softly.

Nothing.

He wondered if he should get his step-father to help him. He shook his head, there was no way Marko would help him. He absently touched his stomach at the thought. Underneath his shirt, his stomach was littered with many bruises and healing wounds. He winced when he still felt pain at the contact. Just another _trophy_- as Marko would say - of the many beatings that had been raining on him, Mother and Cain recently.

No, there was definitely no way he was going to call Marko.

He knocked again, louder this time.

Still no answer.

He gathered up his courage and turned the door handle. He pushed the door open a crack and looked inside.

He screamed a bloody scream at the sight he saw.

There was his mother, looking truly happy for once since Father's death…with a noose around her neck.

And so, another year passed. He was ten now and he had lost his mother.

***~***.***~***

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***~***.***~***

Now, Charles was a very patient boy but even his legendary patience had an end.

"Freak." Cain sneered as he leaned against one of the counters in Marko's lab. Charles kept his gaze on the book he was reading. _'Ignore him, don't let him get the best of you.'_Obviously annoyed by the lack of reaction Charles was giving, Cain grabbed his step-brother's chin and forced him to look up. "What's so interesting?"

Charles looked away and mumbled, "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Cain scorned. "Well I guess you won't mind me doing this." His book was ripped out of his grasp and Cain held it just out of his reach. "Give it back please." Charles asked quietly. He only received a mocking laugh in return, "And what gives you the right to order _me_around?" Cain narrowed his eyes and continued, "I don't even know why your mother even bothered to keep you alive."

_'Stay calm, stay calm.'_

"Then again you had to get your genes from somewhere."

_'Stay calm, stay calm.'_

"Your parents were both freaks weren't they? That's why they loved you. The son of freaks. How fitting."

That was it. He had enough. Charles gave into his anger and punched Cain. But he didn't stop there. Cain deserved something more than just a punch after all he did to him. He placed a hand to his temple and attacked Cain with his thoughts.

_'Shut up. Shut up! __**Shut up! Shut! Up!**__'_

Cain screamed in pain and fell to his knees.

**Make him pay, make him suffer. Don't be weak.**

Cain screamed louder and Charles felt a wave of cold satisfaction wash over him. He revelled in the fact that Cain was writhing on the floor, all because of him.

But that was when Marko burst into the room. Charles looked towards the door and stared at his step-father with a fire blazing in his eyes. Marko looked back at him with fear.

**Never again shall you bee afraid. Show them what it truly means to feel fear.**

Loose objects in the room began to shake until the floated up into the sky. Charles laughed maniacally when he felt the pure terror radiating off of Marko and Cain. He flung the objects around the room, not really caring about where they would land.

**That's right, good job.**

An object managed to hit some of the lab equipment inside the Marko's lab. It skimmed the metal sheet of the machine and created a spark. A spark that landed on the Bunsen burner Cain was playing with earlier.

_Boom!_

When he opened his eyes he saw the dead eyes of Marko staring right at him. He looked up and all he saw was a sea of fire and smoke. Charles looked around wildly for Cain and sighed in relief when his saw his step-brother's un-harmed body in the distance.

"What did I do?" He asked falling to the ground in a fit of sobs.

And so, another year passed. He was eleven now and he had lost another father.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

Cain left the second he turned eighteen.

So once again he was alone.

The mansion was slowly getting emptier and emptier. Each day, servants left the household and moved to other mansions. It carried on until Charles was the only one left.

Charles sat alone in front of his piano playing his heart out. Only the souls of those who died in the mansion could listen to the song. A private concert of all his pain and agony.

The sounds of a melancholic song filled the empty mansion for hours on end until he finally collapsed, exhausted.

And so, another year passed. He was twelve now and he all alone again.

***~***.***~***

***~***~The Childhood of a Telepath~***~***

***~***.***~***

There was another mind in the house.

He got out of bed and grabbed a bat for protection. He crept through the dark halls and inched his way towards his kitchen. He choked up the too-big bat and entered the room.

_Mother?_

No, that couldn't be right.

But he decided to play along.

He let his arms fall limp and sighed exasperatedly, "Mother? What are you - I thought you were a burglar."

"I didn't mean to scare you darling, I was just getting a snack." Her voice rang out. He tried his hardest not to wince at the voice that sounded so much like his Mother.

"Go back to bed." She ordered lightly. When he only stared at her with a blank expression she added, "What's the matter?" She smiled and leaned down to his level, "I'll make you hot chocolate."

He shook his head and asked, "Who are you?" He glanced at the picture that was mounted on the wall. Mother… If he had any doubts about this person, they were gone now. This person was definitely not Mother. "And what have you done with my Mother?" He asked, anger tinting his voice. This person had no right to go around and wear his Mother's face.

_'My Mother had never set foot in this kitchen in her life.'_ Charles projected to the impostor. Said impostor looked around wildly for the source of the voice and backed up which only prompted Charles to step forward. _'And she certainly never made me hot chocolate.'_

So maybe he was lying now but the impostor was too and it seemed only fair.

Then something strange happened. The impostor shrunk down to his size, Mother's blond hair morphed into a fiery red, blue eyes shifted to golden and pale skin turned into…_blue_.

Despite his earlier feelings he smiled.

The girl looked at him with wonder, "You're not…scared of me?"

"I always believed I couldn't be the only one in the world." He said feeling happier and happier by the second. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought he was. He continued, "The only person that was-" he struggled to find the word, "-different."

"And here you are." He reached out his hand, "Charles Xavier." The girl took his hand and shook it lightly. She blinked as if trying to wake up from a dream before answering, "Raven."

And so, another year passed. He was thirteen now and he had gained a sister.


End file.
